Sounds of cheer emanated from the ramparts of Cathay’s Great Bastion as its guards rejoiced at the return of General Zhao Fei, whose brilliant tactics in the field and brief pact with the Goldtooth Clan had led to the successful rescue of several hundred civilians formerly held as slaves by the cruel Braugh the Slavelord. As the Goldtooth ogres returned to their lands keen to punish Braugh for dealing with the Dawi Zharr during wartime, the Cathayan grand army brought the refugees through their great wall’s gates to safety. Parades were held, the brass titan was disassembled and fireworks littered the skyline as Zhao Fei set off back to Weijin, to report his success to the Dragon Emperor.

But all was not as it first appeared as while the Cathayan officials were processing the former-slaves to determine where they would need to be sent back to, one of the refugees strangely went missing from their records. The army searched far and wide, but this lone peasant could not be found. What’s stranger still is the peasant had appeared injured to them at first, grasping at his bandaged chest and preventing any of his rescuers from seeing his wounds. They thought this was out of pride, a man afraid to admit to his injuries and whatever else may have befallen them under the treatment of a necromantic ogre lord like Braugh. But injured men don’t go vanishing. Something was up here.

Weeks passed and the deserter’s whereabouts remained unknown to the guards who searched far and wide for him until finally, he turned up in Beichai, the traitor city ruled over by the Cult of Chi’an Chi, hundreds of miles away from where he’d been lost and far beyond the Dragon Army’s reach.

The former slave wandered Beichai’s streets under the cover of night, making sure to stay out of view from shoppers and drunkards alike until finally, he reached the inn of Dongpo. He knocked on the door only to hear a hazy, lisping voice respond “Password.”

“Look into my chest.” the wanderer responded.”Oh, is it you?” a wooden panel moved from the door, revealing a peephole. “It is you. But how did you do it? How did you possibly smuggle your way here?” the voice inside asked.

“First let me inside, before I am seen.””Of course, my lord.” The door unlocked and the wandering peasant entered. “We had your armour procured for you, my lord. It took great effort to get it across the border but we managed to recruit someone perfect for the task. We’ll make contact with him as soon as possible… though I don’t see how you intend to fit inside it.” the inn’s doorman responded.

“No need, your agent is here already. He’s waiting for me downstairs. I have a way of knowing these things. But first…” the peasant opened his mouth wide and stuck two fingers in his mouth, choking him as he deliberately attempted to vomit up whatever was hidden in the lining of his throat until finally, after a great deal of saliva and whatever he’d eaten earlier that day had been spat out, a necklace fell out of his mouth. Upon coughing up this piece of jewellery, the infiltrator began to transform. His body grew at least an additional foot in height, his legs and arms widened considerably with increased muscle mass, his skin turned a gruesome greyish-blue with visible veins covering his skin and two horns sprouted from his head as the insignia of Tzeentch he’d previously revealed to the doorman etched into his chest beneath those bandages glowed a bright blue. “That’s better!” the chaos chosen bellowed before descending into the cellar to see his agent.

The inn’s cellar was dark and damp. One would be forgiven for assuming it was empty, but this warrior who’d spent years as a slave to the ogres knew better than to fall for such deception. “Reveal yourself. I have your payment.”

At that moment, a Clan Eshin assassin emerged from the shadows to greet its client. “I Slittrek, travel long-hard to bring this. Give-offer payment now-immediately!”

“Calm yourself little rodent, I have brought your payment. Apologies for the mess.” the warrior responded as he tossed his necklace toward the skaven. “Pure wyrdstone, plucked from the ruins of Mordheim. I used its sapping abilities to hide my blessings, but I no longer need it now.”

The skaven’s eyes lit up as it inspected the glowing green beauty of the crude warpstone-encrusted ornament he held in his paws before responding. “Armour there-there in corner. Rotting skin inside, can’t remove-take out.”

“Of course not rat, once fused a disciple of the true gods cannot leave his armour.”

“How armour gone?” the Skaven asked confused.

The chaos warrior laughed a despicable garble of vowels for a moment before turning back to the Skaven assassin (who was vaguely terrified at this point by that laugh) and revealing that he’d allowed his followers to remove his horns and flay him, tearing the skin from his body in order to escape his protective shell. Combined with the enchanted necklace he’d ingested which sapped at his ability to develop new mutations he’d been able to blend in with the other slaves under the ogres for the last few years. In all that time only the patch of hide around his mark of Tzeentch remained untouched, for to remove that would be quite an insult to his god. Hence the bandages he’d worn over it.

Once the chaos chosen finished recounting the tale of his transformation and coming here, the Skaven wanted nothing more than to leave as the warrior continued to laugh daemonically at the fact his scheme had actually worked. The rat pointed once more to the armour lying in the corner before tossing an axe etched with warpstone at the warrior’s feet in a clear effort to get this over with and return to his clan.

“Wait. I will need further assistance from you yet.” the warrior spoke, seeing the assassin trying to skulk off. “In fact, I’m going to need to enlist your chief’s services, there’s lots more warpstone in it for you…”

Having completed his conversation with the assassin who’d gone off to speak to its master, the chaos warrior ascended the stairs from whence he’d cane now clad in his armour (though bits of torn skin remained stuck to its insides even now) and brandishing his axe which now had a magical purple glow along its edge. “Contact the rest of the cult, tell them I have our target.”

“Where, my lord?” the innkeeper responded.

“Why, Fu-Hung of course.”

“Of course? But the Dragon Monks reside there, we would be slaughtered!”

“Listen closely. I am Albodi, Chosen warrior of Tzeentch! I have served the changeling for as long as the winds have blown and I have come here for one simple reason, to allow my lords access to this land. This land’s Emperor has openly challenged our god, building that infernal wall and tower to prevent our armies and masters from entering this land. But I am here now to unmake that which he has dared commit. The Tower of Ashshair prevents my masters from materialising in this plain, it must be destroyed. But to do so we need to weaken the centres of power which fuel it. There are three such centres: Nan Gau, Shang-Yang and Fu Hung. All of these places would be a challenge to take but between two fortresses and a temple, Fu-Hung is bound to be the weakest.” Albodi emplored.

“I fear you are mistaken my lord. You know of our land but not enough of its people. The monks of Fu-Hung are legend, they say they can kill a man with the single press of their palm, that they can breathe fire, turn their hands to stone and even move without touching the ground.”

“Our Masters have decided, you will ready the cult or I will kill all of you. Understood?” Albodi threatened.

“Yes, my lord.”

…

And so two weeks passed as the cult gathered and made their way to the temple-town of Fu Hung, making sure to travel under the cover of night only in order to avoid guards’ patrols. The town was truly beautiful, located high above a valley, the sky permanently coloured by a breeze of pink lotus blossoms as the cultists made their way up. Albodi charged toward the temple with the cultists of Chi’An Chi following close behind clad in robes snd armed with simple daggers. They burst through the temple’s gates and inspected their surroundings. No guards. No defences. No monks in sight. They stepped onward to delve deeper when suddenly a hail of smoke bombs fell from the ceiling. The chaos worshippers stood back to back and as the smoke dissipated, so too did their foes come into view. Where previously there stood no-one, now they were surrounded by bald monks in lightly armoured garb, their fists clenched for combat.

Albodi considered his surroundings, considering who to strike first onlg to find his thought process disturbed when Chen Long, the Grand Master of the Dragon Monks and an expert in the martial way of the Dragon appeared standing on a balcony above, his hands gripping a twin-bladed staff as he opened his lips to speak.

Chen Long: “Albodi the Scarred, Chosen Champion of Tzeentch, you have endured much to get here and evaded detection along the way. Truly such deception may be worth the recognition of your people’s camp songs for generations to come. But now, your path has ended. Surrender your arms and you may yet return to your people breathing.”

Albodi: “You know me?”

Chen Long: “The Celestial Dragon sees all, more even than your Avian Deity it seems. Your arrival was anticipated.”Albodi: “Is that so?”

….

• Sad React: Suddenly, a figure leapt from the darkness toward the Grand Master, plunging its daggers into his back and slicing his throat with a third dagger held by its long, winding tail. As Chen Long fell, the assailant stepped out of the shadows, revealing itself as Deathmaster Snikch, the dreaded chief assassin of Clan Eshin. A group of monks charged toward Snikch who instantly leapt between them, deftly weaving between them as his poisoned knifes incapacitated each of them.

As the monks fell like flies Albodi leapt into action, annihilating the monks around him in a blade-wind like flurry of his axe. Eventually, all the monks and their students had fallen and the Chaos Chosen ascended to the top of the temple. The magical wards enforced across this nation by the Tower of Ashshair were still strong, even with the fall of one of these three points of power. Yet by managing to take this point down, Albodi had just enough magical reserves open to him to bring one daemon through, just one. Fortunately, it seemed luck (or shall we say fate?) was on his side this time as the portal opened and none other than a dreaded Lord of Change stepped through. With this greater daemon, who named itself Sarthorael the Ever-Watcher, by their side Albodi had a good feeling that the other two fortresses should fall without too much difficulty. As for whether this Sarthorael needed Albodi to complete this mission, well we shall just have to wait and see…

….

• Love React: The Chief Assasin of Clan Eshin leapt out of the darkness toward Chen Long but through what seemed like a sheer miracle, the Grand Master sensed his approach and swung his blade-staff around him, smacking both daggers from the rat’s paws. With both arms disarmed, Snikch’s tail darted forward to strike with his third dagger. However, Chen was prepared for this as his left forearm mutated, developing scales like those of an Eastern Dragon, making his hide strong enough to prevent penetration by Snikch’s poisoned blade. From there, Chen Long struck with a touch of death, not some mystical or metaphorical move mind you. No, instead this touch of death meant the simple act of punching Snikch through the rib-cage with his mutated forearm, as Snikch fell back dead Chen Long retrieved his arm, still clinging onto the Skaven assassin’s heart.

But things weren’t over yet as Chen Long leapt below, landing on the ground in a kneeling position. Albodi wondered how that landing didn’t break the martial artist’s kneecaps but sadly wouldn’t have the time to ask even if he wanted to as Chen Long instantly stood back up and attacked the Chaos Chosen. His staff’s sword-edge clanged with Albodi’s axe as the two parried each other’s attacks. However, Albodi had one final trick at his disposal as he opened his mouth and spat an inflammable substance at the Chaos Chosen which reacted with the magical enchantments of his axe, causing a purple gulf of flame that temporarily blinded Albodi’s sight before him. As this happened Chen Long fell into a splits position and swung his blade-staff into a side-sweep, allowing it to make contact with and tear through the back of Albodi’s greaves. Albodi the Scarred fell to the ground and just as he fell, Chen Long instantly flipped himself back up into a standing position, gripped his mutated forearms around Albodi’s horns and spun them round, thereby breaking the Chaos Chosen’s neck inside.

From there the monks and their Grand Master made quick work of the chaos cultists, dismembering every single one of them for their transgressions. Not a single cultist made it out alive.

….

• Wow React: Snick leapt from the shadows to kill Chen only to be struck as the Grand Master of the Dragon Monks spun into a reverse hook kick, connecting the sole of his right foot with Snikch’s face and breaking the rat’s nose. Thoroughly disorientated by his inability to smell which normally made up for his lack of vision, Snikch meandered for a moment, allowing Chen ample time to turn back round and shove one of the blade-ends of his staff through Snikch’s left wrist. Snivelling in pain and pressing his exposed wrist to his mouth, Snikch disappeared into the darkness, cursing the martial artist who injured him.

With the rat dealt with, Chen Long jumped down to fight Albodi the Scarred. However, Albodi anticipated where he would land and charged straight toward that spot, knocking him back with his shoulder while his cultists behind entered combat with the monks. Chen Long landed on his back and attempted to jump up only for Albodi to kick him back down instantly, the sharp metal edges of his boots leaving a dent in the Grand Master’s brow. Albodi paced over toward him, grabbed the Grand Master by the neck and slammed his bald head into Albodi’s arched knee face-first, knocking out several of Chen’s teeth before pulling his head back and thumping his face with his armoured glove.

Seeing as the Grand Master had largely been defeated, Albodi turned to his cultists and helped them to defeat the other monks and students, hacking his axe into bald heads one after the other. Finally, with the monks defeated Albodi ascended the temple, interrupted its protective aura to the Tower of Ashshair and opened his portal – all while Chen Long silently snuck off to warn Weijing of his defeat. However, upstairs Albodi was far from happy when he saw what came through.

“No, please. I have done everything you asked. I even tore the skin off my back for you! Why would you cast me aside?” Albodi yelled but his begging fell on deaf ears as the terrifying Mad Satrap of Tzeentch stepped through the rift. Albodi fell to his knees but the Lord of Change took no notice and vaporised him with a single swipe of its wings. Unlike other daemons that may have entered, this one would require no army or additional support to see it’s mission completed and so saw no reason in wasting its time on the Tower of Ashshair or the fortresses which powered it. Cathay’s doom had come and it’s name was Aetaos’rau’keres!

….

….

….

Snikch emerged from the shadows and struck Chen Long in the abdomen before he could even tell what was coming. His poisoned blade pierced Chen’s skin, making the tiniest of incisions but still enough to lace him with the poison within. Chen Long became faint and fell off his balcony, plummeting below where Albodi leapt into action, swiping wide with his axe to slay as many monks as possible while Snikch came down and joined in with the fun, darting between the bald-headed monks with extreme urgency and striking each down with one of his three blades. Finally, with all the monks dead Albodi walked over to their Grand Master whose skin had turned a pale green and proceeded to break both his legs, just to make sure he couldn’t skulk away as the poison made its way through his system.

Albodi, Snikch and the cultists ascended the temple’s steps to where they would need to go to de-power its magical wards and weaken the Tower of Ashshair by consequence. However, just as they were about to reach the top Albodi suddenly heard the sound of throats being slit. He turned round, though not fast enough it seems as he turned round to receive one of Snikch’s daggers to the flesh between his throat and the clavicle.

“Sorry metal-thing, but Monkey King give-make better deal!” Snikch laughed as he finished each one of Albodi’s cultists off.

• Laugh React: With the cultists dead and Albodi the Scarred poisoned, Snikch ascended the rest of the temple and rang its bell. The bell tolled for miles round and with it thousands of illusive monkey warriors, hereto exiled to the Mountains of Heaven, emerged from their hiding places to rally behind Snikch, Lord Sneek, Clan Eshin and the true ruler of Cathay, the Monkey King!

As the monkey warriors and Skaven rallied to their rightful masters, Albodi took this chance to flee the temple, his mutated hide enabling him to endure Snikch’s poison’s debilitating effects long enough to escape.

….

• Angry React: Despite being stabbed and poisoned, Albodi only laughed as he laid at Snikch’s feet, or at least attempted the closest facsimile of laughter that could be achieved while coughing up a spurt of poisoned blood that is. Snikch looked at him confused but Albodi took no notice as he tore his breastplate from his chest once more and removed his bandages. The insignia of Tzeentch which lay beneath transformed, turning from its initial blue to a strange combination of pink and green as it began to expand into a rift. The rift grew, sapping all of Albodi’s remaining life-force as well the poison from Snikch’s attack and used it to fuel itself, growing larger and larger until finally it erupted into a full-on portal large enough to summon an army.

Deathmaster Snikch ran for his life as the opening waves of an invasion stepped through the portal lead by not one but two Lords of Change, Sarthorael the Ever-Watcher and Tchzen of the Silver Claw. Can Cathay possibly survive a full-scale invasion of Tzeentchian daemons?